


It's A Terrible Life

by Pineprin137



Series: Wincest Codas [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Coda, Dean being a Drama Queen, Dean is an emotional eater, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Graphic Depictions of Illness, He overdoes it, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Starvation, Vomiting, Worried Sam Winchester, binge eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27760525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: Angels are dicks.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Wincest Codas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671544
Kudos: 39





	It's A Terrible Life

”Dean, slow down…” Sam warned, grimacing while his brother shoved yet another fist full of chili fries into his mouth. 

“Who the hell does he think he is, Sam,  _ taking control of our lives like that! _ He may be Cas’s boss, but he ain’t ours-- and he _sure as Hell_ ain’t  _ mine! _ ” 

Sam warily glanced at the empty take-out containers littering the table. “Dean, seriously, man. You’re gonna make yourself sick…” 

After Zachariah had his little chat with Dean, the brothers had shed their false corporate identities and immediately headed to the nearest motel. 

But, thanks to Mr. Smith’s master cleanse, Dean had been starving, so they'd stopped to get food on the way. 

However, one drive-thru hadn’t been enough. By the time they arrived at the motel, Dean had a small stash of burgers, fries, hotdogs, pizza, and even a small milkshake. Oh, and beer. _Lots_ of beer. 

“I drove a hybrid, Sam! A fucking  _ hybrid! _ And the shit that I had to drink? That has to qualify as torture in at least three countries," he grumbled, gesturing angrily with the hotdog in his hand. Mustard was dripping onto his wrist, but he didn't seem to care. " _ Fuckin’ angels...”  _

There was a brief pause during which Dean finished off his fries and shake. Then, he was back at it, cursing Zachariah...NPR...striped dress shirts?...anything he could think of. 

His brother was on a roll, fueled by anger and an understandable feeling of being violated. While Dean continued his rant, Sam had to duck to avoid ending up with a face-full of his cheeseburger. 

Dean had barely stopped to breathe since they'd gotten in the Impala-- which Zachariah had been kind enough to park in the Sandover parking lot. 

Sam winced as another mouthful of fries was washed down with a long pull from Dean’s third beer. 

Considering how pissed off his brother was, Sam was just happy Dean had settled for beer, instead of insisting they stop by a liquor store so he could buy a bottle of his favorite rotgut whiskey...

Sam was starting to grow rather concerned about how quickly Dean was eating. The empty wrappers were piling up, and Dean was acting like he was starved. 

“Dean….take a breath, would ya? Your stomach’s going to explode if you keep eating so fast.” 

If he could get Dean to slow down, maybe his brother’s stomach would be able to handle the immense amount of food being crammed into it. Because, if not, Dean was going to make himself sick- _really sick_... 

Dean scowled at him over the bin of yet _another_ burger. “I haven’t eaten in two days, Sam--  _ two  _ days, so forgive me if I'm a little hungry!” 

Sam pulled out his standard bitchface. “You told me you had a bagel and salad the first day, Dean.” 

“That doesn’t count as real food, man!" Dean snarled, "It’s fuckin’ rabbit food!” 

Sam frowned at him. “I’m pretty sure rabbits don’t eat bagels, Dean.” 

“Maybe not,” Dean groused, shoving the remainder of his double-bacon burger into his mouth. “But it was  _ plain _ , Sammy--  _ plain!  _ Who the fuck eats plain ba--” Dean halted in the middle of his sentence. 

Uh oh. This couldn't be good...

“Dean?” Sam asked. He reached out to place his hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Dean suddenly shoved his chair back. 

It tipped over, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Dean's unfinished bottle of his beer knocked over, spilling onto an empty wrapper. 

Dean slapped a hand over his mouth before running into the bathroom. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to close the door, so Sam had the displeasure of seeing his brother projectile vomit all over the toilet seat. 

Pushing his own half-eaten burger aside, Sam got up and walked over to the bathroom doorway.

Groaning in between the painful heaves, Dean held onto the john for dear life as everything he’d just eaten was forcefully evacuated from his system. Most of it was still recognizable. 

Sam coughed to cover a gag. 

When the intensity died down some, he cautiously approached his sick brother. 

“I tried to tell you…” he murmured, kneeling beside Dean.

“Sam, save the-” Dean belched loudly, expelling a mess of undigested cheese fries into the bowl. Afterward, he coughed pitifully. “--lecture for later. 'kay?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. Though, he did agree, the consequences Dean was currently suffering from were more than enough of an ‘I Told You So’. 

“You want some water?” he asked, nodding to the sink. 

Dean gave a painful hiccup that made his entire back jump beneath his tee-shirt. _“Please,"_ he rasped. 

Now that his stomach had calmed down a little, he slowly lowered himself to the floor. He leaned back against the cracked bathtub their current home-away-from-home sported, let his head rest on the edge.

“I hate this, Sam...” 

“Dean, it’ll wear off. You just have to ease yourself back into it.” 

Dean raised his head to squint at his brother. “What?” 

“It's not unusual for the body to reject food after not eating much ,” Sam said with a shrug. “So, it may take a few days- before you’re able to keep your regular diet down.” 

Dean shook his head before tiredly accepting the plastic cup filled with tap water. He took a small sip, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“No, not that-- I meant, the angels, Sam. I hate that they can just mindwipe us like that..." He looked at his brother with pain-filled eyes. "It doesn’t matter if we don't want to help them or do what those feathery bastards _command-_ ” 

He sneered. “They can just snap their fuckin’ angelic fingers and send us off to God-knows-where!” 

Sam sat on the floor beside his brother. 

“Dean, hey--Look at me.” 

He cupped Dean’s face in his hands, leaned forward to kiss the crown of his head. 

“We’re going to figure this out. Okay?” 

Dean scoffed, “How the hell are we supposed to beat this, Sammy? They’re  _ angels, _ for fuck’s sake!”

Sam wrapped his arm over Dean's shoulders and tugged him until his head was on Sam's shoulder. “We took down Yellow Eyes, Dean. We've killed gods. Angels or not, we can find a way to do this, too.” 


End file.
